Билл Пронзини - In an Evil Time

Well, it didn’t really matter, did it? Pierce... who else but Pierce? And he couldn’t go to the police anyway. On the way back he had a strong impulse to get into the car, go hunting again. He fought it off. The state he was in now, it would be foolish, even dangerous, to brace Pierce.

Cassie was still in the living room, but she had gotten over the worst of her shock. She stood by the wet bar, color in her cheeks again, sparking anger in place of the glassy shine in her eyes.

She asked, “Did anybody see him?”

“No. Archers and Lippmans aren’t home.”

“He’s lucky as well as crazy. The police... maybe they can find something in this mess to prove it was him.”

“You didn’t phone them?”

“No, I was waiting for you.”

He took a breath before he said, “I’m not going to report this.”

“Why not? Rakubian—”

“Rakubian didn’t do it.”

“Of course he did.”

Another breath, and then the big plunge because he could not hide the truth any longer. “Rakubian’s dead, Cass.”

“Dead? You... dead ?”

“For two months.”

“How do you know that? My God, you didn’t...”

“No, I didn’t kill him. But I have a pretty good idea who did. The same person who sent those notes, who did this.”

She was staring at him as if she had never seen him before. “Who?”

“I’d better tell you the whole story first.”

“Yes, you’d damn well better.”

“Not in here. In the kitchen.”

She led him out there, sat down at the dinette table, and waited for him to do the same before she said, “All right, Jack. The whole story.”

He told her. The truth and nothing but the truth, withholding only what he’d kept from Eric. She reacted just twice, first with a pained grimace when he explained his belief in Eric’s quilt, then with a jerky nod when he said of his cover-up, “I had to do it to protect him.” Otherwise she sat and listened and stared at him in stoic silence.

The silence went on after he was done. And when she finally did say something, it was not at all the reaction he’d expected.

“Goddamn you, Jack Hollis.” In a coldly furious voice. “You make me so fucking mad sometimes, I could scream.”

“Cass, I’m sorry, but I thought I was doing the right thing—”

“The right thing.”

“Yes.”

“By lying to me, keeping me in the dark.”

“I wanted to protect you, too—”

“There, that’s what I mean. That’s it exactly. It’s not Rakubian or what you did that’s got me so upset, it’s you . You and that Superman compulsion of yours.”

“What’re you talking about?”

“Superman, Superdad, Superhusband. Protect Eric, Angela, me. Shoulder all the responsibility, make all the decisions, take all the risks. Try to be better than your father in every damn way.”

“My father? What does he have to do with this?”

“He has everything to do with it. Your whole life has been one constant struggle to prove to yourself that he was wrong about you, that you’re a better man than he was. Smarter, stronger, more capable, more compassionate, more protective, more loving, more nurturing, more everything. But you’re not the strong, silent, macho type. You’re Jack Hollis, not Bud Hollis, and you try too hard and lose judgment and perspective and make mistakes and shut people out because you can’t admit that you need help or advice, that you’re even a little bit weaker than hard-as-nails Bud Hollis.”

The accusations stung him. Denial surged hot into his throat, but he had no words to express it.

“The cancer, too, that’s another thing. You’re so full of rage and anxiety at what’s happening inside your body that it’s clouded your reason.”

“That’s not true!”

“It is true. You think I don’t know, don’t understand? You’re angry and bitter and afraid, and there’s a part of you that needs to lash out at something or somebody... Rakubian, for instance. But you can’t admit it to yourself, it’s not an acceptable attitude, so you’ve shifted it around to something that is acceptable — protecting your family at all cost, making sure we survive because you’re afraid you won’t survive yourself.”

“My God,” he said in a choked voice.

“I’m right, you know I am. Can’t you see it? Those are the real reasons you’ve been trying to deal with all this on your own... your father, the cancer. But you can’t deal with it alone, you never could, and you don’t have to. They’re my problems as well as yours. I’m your wife, your partner, your coconspirator if necessary, and whether you like it or not I’m just as angry as you are, just as tough and capable, and more clearheaded in a crisis. I don’t deserve to be treated as a weakling or an inferior, because I’m neither one. I don’t deserve to be treated the way your father treated you.”

He shook his head, more reflex than anything else, and got to his feet. Stood indecisively for a few seconds, then sank back down again. All at once he was very tired; his arms and legs had a boneless feel.

“I know all that hurt you,” Cassie said in softer tones, “but it had to be said. You’ve hurt me, too.”

“I... never meant to hurt you.”

“A sin of omission is still a sin.”

“All right. All right. Why the hell have you stayed married to me if you think I’m such a loser, if I offend you so much?”

“For God’s sake, don’t start pitying yourself. I stay with you because I love you and I need you, flaws and all. I’m not attacking you, Jack, I’m only trying to make you see things the way they are so we can move on.”

He saw, he really did see; the denial was no longer hot, not even lukewarm. She was right. Everything she’d said, right on the mark. But all he could make himself say was, “Move on to where?”

“Jack... you...” Her voice had grown hoarse; she cleared her throat. “My mouth is so dry I can’t...” He watched her get to her feet, move to the refrigerator. With the door open she said, “Do you want anything?”

“No.”

She poured a tumblerful of milk, swallowed half before she sat down again. “Better,” she said. Then she said, “You haven’t told Angela yet. About Rakubian.”

“Not yet.”

“Do you intend to?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

He shook his head.

“It’s cruel to keep it from her. You know how frightened she is. You have to tell her — we have to tell her. As soon as possible. Tonight.”

“She can’t come here. The living room...”

“We’ll go to her apartment.”

“I won’t do it in front of Pierce.”

“For heaven’s sake, why not?”

“Who do you suppose killed Rakubian? Wrote those notes, did all the damage here today?”

“You think it’s Ryan?”

“Who the hell else?”

“What possible reason—?”

He told her what possible reason.

“I don’t believe it,” she said.

“You don’t believe it. He’s a shining example of manhood in your eyes, is that it? Unlike me. The new, improved Ryan Pierce.”

“That’s the anger talking again.”

“Is it? Not if I’m right about him.”

“Do you have any proof?”

“Not yet, but I will.”

“Then what’s got you so convinced he’s guilty?”

He was silent.

“You don’t like him and you want him to be the one? You were sure it was Eric and you were wrong. Now you’re sure it was Ryan and you can be just as wrong about him.”

“Who else could it be? Tell me that.”

“I can think of somebody right off the top of my head. You won’t like it, but he’s got just as much motive as Ryan.”

“Who?”